


Like a Record, Baby

by oolongteawithpudding



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Bipolar Hawkeye, Gen, Mild Suicidal Ideation, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rated M for all that shit, Self-Harm, Smoking, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, a hint of beejhawk, am i projecting? maaybe, discussion of weight, there's no explicit sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:01:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27622435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oolongteawithpudding/pseuds/oolongteawithpudding
Summary: The rollercoaster Hawkeye's bipolar disorder takes him on through the years(I actually may update this in the future)
Relationships: Sidney Freedman & Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce
Comments: 8
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm only up to mid season 7 rn, also forgive me if my memory of the earlier seasons is unreliable.

He notices it a few months into his duty. How devastated he would get, digging his nails into his palm until the pain became a white blur. He’d cover it up with jokes, and never, ever cry, that was the important part. He didn’t think he could anymore. He went out drinking with Trapper under the guise of having fun, but it was just an excuse to bury himself deeper into the hole.

“What’s gonna- what’s gonna happen if we get, blown up? Wonder if my head’ll land in some terrified family’s wok!” Hawkeye laughed hysterically.

“Jeez, don’t you think that’s a little morbid?” said Trapper. He was chuckling, but there was a hint of concern in his voice.

“Only if you do.” That didn’t make sense, but, whatever. He looked into the rippling surface of his whiskey, gears turning in his head. Then, he looked back at Trapper, eyes bright and dangerous. “Hey,” he whispered, “Let’s go to Rosie’s.”

“Guess I can’t protest-“

Hawkeye took his arm before he could say anything more.

“Hallelujah, we’re going out on the town!” Hawkeye yelled, skipping toward the exit, drawing stares from everybody in the room.

Zale slammed his washcloth down.

“Now, wait a minute!” he yelled.

“Put it on my tab, o barkeep!” he skipped out the door, Trapper looking confused as ever. “Say hi to the missus for me!”

Hawkeye didn’t remember anything else from that night, except for taking chlamydia pills two days later.

“Try to be more careful, will ya?” Blake had said. “I mean, you should know better, of all people.”

“The creep probably has a dozen halfie babies by now.” Frank mumbled, peering at his chart.

“Why does _he_ have to be here?” Hawkeye gave Frank a venomous stare.

“Oh, come off it, guys.” Blake fidgeted. “This’ll all be over in a couple weeks.”

And it was. It was a pleasant recovery. He was finally out of that trench of suffering, he deserved to celebrate. He strode around the camp, stopping to chat with everybody, getting playful with the nurses- Margaret even let him braid a lock of her hair. He couldn’t sleep that night, but that was no problem. There were two waves of wounded, and he sung through it all until Blake told him to stop. Life was normal, life was dandy, he squeezed Trapper in a hug so tight he almost lifted him off the ground.

Then, he went on leave. Not to be bothered, not by anyone. It was the perfect time to go, Frank Burns was in command, after all. Seeing his pathetic attempt at power was almost sad, but he didn’t really care. All he needed was a bar’s worth of alcohol, a pretty lady to step on his back, and a town full of trouble. He felt like laughing when he got to his hotel room. He threw down his duffel bag and jumped face-first onto the bed, fatigues and all. He took off his coat and boots and put on his robe and shower sandals over his t-shirt and pants. He was going to take all this sweet town had to offer.

He came back, lounging on a carriage, shielding his bloodshot eyes from the sun. Everyone started bothering him all at once, and he was sick of it already. He needed a shower. They even bothered him in the shower. Why-  
Oh, God. His heart started racing. He needed to say goodbye. Fuck Burns, he needed that jeep. He drove to the air base so fast it nearly made Radar carsick, but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough.

His happiness was dying. He liked Hunnicutt, but it nearly pulled tears out of him to see B.J. so jarred. My God, he could remember the first time he saw a war body. It was nothing like cadaver lab. He hadn’t been able to eat for days. He had to break the truth to B.J. He was so adamant he wouldn’t get used to it, but Hawkeye knew he would. Mourning every death was simply impossible, even though the names played through his head like a movie theater ticker every night. Maybe that was the price to pay for not being able to save them.

Over the next few days, he was adamant to stay in post-op for as long as possible, despite Col. Potter’s orders. He laughed and joked with the patients, and sweet-talked the nurses into letting him stay longer, and longer. And, when Potter would come in, he’d pretend to be on his way out. It was funny how well he could function without sleep. He shook so bad, but he could always steady himself when it was time to get to the OR.

And then he started sleepwalking. What the hell was that about, anyway? Was he just that full of energy? Why was Freedman asking so many questions? They were sitting on the bench, talking about things that were almost too much. Hawkeye started fidgeting his hands, just like Henry had always done. Sidney frowned, looking at his hands.

“What is it, Sidney?”

Sidney gestured to his palms. “You get nicked with a scalpel today?”

Hawkeye’s breathing became shallow. “Uh, yeah.” He tucked his hands into his coat pockets. “Occupational hazard, you know. I always disinfect, though, don’t you worry. No hepatitis for me.”

Hawkeye flashed a smile. Sidney wasn’t having any of it, even though he hid his skepticism behind those calm, green eyes.

“Uh huh.” Sidney nodded, “Do you have any more?”

“Well, a surgeon’s job is so intense, right? So, I’m bound to get nicked with some kind of medical instrument every now and then. You know what’s funny? I have a scar just below my chin from when I cut myself shaving. It’s so easy to-“

Sidney held up his hand. Hawkeye went silent, digging his hands further into his pockets.

“Hawkeye, I’m not gonna tell anyone, you know. I’m not your enemy.”

“Yeah.” Hawk said, resigned.

And then Freedman told him about the war. That there was no sugarcoating it, only getting through it. That Hawkeye’s madness only made him sane. It was three weeks before he did it again. Another week before B.J. asked him why he kept a lighter when he didn’t smoke. Hawkeye looked at his novelty lighter and smiled.

“She’s shaped just like Rita Hayworth, Beej, how could I throw her away?”

They laughed, and B.J. subsequently forgot about it. Poor Rita. She’d probably be disappointed that her likeness was being used to burn the forearm of some poor Army doctor in Korea, but she’d never know. He was tired again, and he wondered how in the hell he’d ever made it 72 hours without sleep. He could barely work a full shift in the OR now without his body threatening to give out. He was too tired to make jokes or slap Margaret’s bottom, but his closing stitches were neat and pristine every time. He couldn’t allow himself to compromise a patient’s wellbeing just because he was feeling gloomy.

Until he did. He took everything out on Radar- he was no better than a school bully, picking on the smallest kid in class just to elevate himself. Christ, he felt terrible, and so did everyone else around him. That night, he drank so much gin his blood was probably flammable. Then came the next morning and he couldn’t even do surgery. He wanted to give Charles a piece of his mind for waking him up too early, but he knows it was his fault. Everyone deserved to know what a fraud he was. What a lying, irritable scam he was. Things were better when he apologized to Radar, but they weren’t the same.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is inspired by last night when my blanket was in the wash so I used an old Navy (the military branch not the brand lmao) blanket instead.

Hawkeye couldn't think how much better his quality of life would be if these blankets had been made just a little bit longer. For cripes sakes, even Radar complained about them, and he was only five-foot-six. Didn't the Army know the average height of a man was 5'10", or had they lost that fact in their little bureaucracy, too? Well, they say improvise, adapt, overcome, and that's just what he'd done- he, and everyone else he knows, for that matter, sleeps under layers upon layers of blankets. Tonight, it wasn't too cold, so he had his sheet first, then two of the Army's wool blankets stacked like slices of cheese on a big hamburger, and then a green cotton one on top. And, that's the other thing- why were the blankets square-shaped? They were trying to cover people, not crates, weren't they?

Hawkeye sighed. It really wasn’t much use thinking about blankets when he’d already solved the problem as good as it was going to get. He had a lot more things on his mind, like how had he not noticed his feet were more blister than skin? Or, why he’d gone from a 34 waist to a 32? Well, most important was the fact that his friends were worried about him. Which was silly, because he wasn’t doing any worse than normal. When he and B.J. would sit at the still, B.J.’s brow would wrinkle up and his eyes would get all sad when he’d look at him. Hawkeye hated to see his best friend get worked up over nothing. Couldn’t he just be happy without people meddling?

He still couldn’t sleep. He knew he had to get his rest, but he hadn’t been able to sleep much for a while and he still had been doing fine. Now all he could hear was every squelching footstep in the mud, every insect’s buzzy little wings, and Charles’ world-class snoring. How had he ever been able sleep when everything was this _loud_? His knee-jerk reaction would be to go to post-op for some midnight rounds, or find someone at the OC to gamble with, but he was too tired to deal with anyone tonight. Could he be hungover from the swill he had today? Nah, he always made sure he never got hungover. Maybe the war was finally getting to him. That, or he was going to start feeling down again. No, this couldn’t end, he didn’t want this to end…

He woke up to choppers. He didn’t sing in the OR, he couldn’t bring himself to. His blisters hurt like hell, but he grit his teeth behind his mask and plowed on for another 10 hours. He remembered the first time he’d seen the inside of a living person’s abdominal cavity. It was med school, and his class at BUSM had gotten to observe an appendectomy. He hadn’t expected the blood to be such a deep ruby red, and the organs had been absolutely teeming with life. It was like the force of the ocean was driving that man’s bodily functions. When the was done, Hawkeye had applauded the loudest.

Of course, it wasn’t like that now. His feelings were numb by the time he’d come out of OR and changed back into his fatigues. He couldn’t wait to wear regular chinos again. His Hawaiian shirts were like a lot of his shirts back home, but he really only wore them when celebrating, and he didn’t have anything to celebrate that day. By the time he’d gotten back to the Swamp and tucked himself into bed with a martini, B.J. was close behind.

“Hey, Hawk.”

“Yeah.” Hawkeye grunted vaguely in his friend’s direction.

“How’re your patients?” B.J. asked.

“Fine, I went through post-op and checked all of them myself.” Said Hawkeye, “Why, is something wrong?”

“No, no,” said B.J.,”I was just surprised you weren’t still in post-op.”

“Why would I be? There’s nothing left to do there.” Hawkeye took a gulp of his martini.

B.J. sighed. “Well, nobody could pry you out of there for almost a month.”

“Nobody tried to _pry_ me out of there.” Hawkeye said, indignant.

There was a pause. B.J. gazed at Hawkeye, frowning, brow furrowing.

“Oh, come on, stop looking at me like that.” Said Hawkeye, annoyed.

“Jesus, Hawk, did it ever occur to you that I’m worried about you? For God’s sakes, I can see your ribs when you shower!”

“Pervert.”

B.J. sighed, exasperated. “Damn it, Hawkeye, I’m serious! I’ve lived with you long enough to know when something’s wrong!”

Hawkeye put down his glass, rubbing his eyes.

“What’re you gonna do, Beej, huh? Call Sid Freedman on me?”

“I just might.” B.J. crossed his arms.

Hawkeye’s head was spinning. Why the hell had he mentioned Freedman?

“Alright, I won’t stop you.” He said.

B.J. looked back at him, dazed.

“I _said_ , I won’t stop you!” Hawkeye yelled. “No, no, really, I _want_ you to sic that little creep on me so he can pick apart my brain!”

B.J.’s expression hardened, and he stormed out of the Swamp, slamming the door behind him. Hawkeye was still in bed, shaking as he brought the martini glass to his mouth. Why had he yelled at his best friend? How could he be such an idiot? B.J. loved him, cared about him, and Hawkeye would never forgive himself if he pushed him away. Hawkeye downed the rest of his drink, and shifted himself so he was lying flat on his back. He couldn’t avoid B.J. for long, but he could escape into dreamland til there was wounded again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ty for reading, I know this wasn't like the last chapter, but I hope you enjoyed it! Maybe tonight I can try having two military blankets. Please let me know if you like this chapter! Chapter 3 is coming soon.


	3. Chapter 3

He didn’t know what was happening. There he’d been, pulling 24-hour shifts with no problem, but now he could barely bring himself to the mess hall every morning. When there were wounded, he’d go on autopilot. He wouldn’t try to get to know his patients; he’d just make rounds and go. Maybe B.J. was right to be worried. He sighed, throwing his scrubs into the bin dejectedly. Everybody was too tired to say a word, and for once, Hawkeye was glad. He could really use some sleep. But, even then, he’d still dream of Korea. When he was first stationed at the 4077th, he’d dreamt of home every night. Then, everything changed- a nightmare- a weird one at that. He’d been in the mess hall, being served tomato soup, liver, corned beef… and then, he’d looked up at the server. He was staring open-mouthed at Hawkeye, skin slowly turning sallow, melting off his face, organs falling out through his clothing. He reached toward Hawkeye, jaw opening wider, as if to swallow him whole. Hawkeye looked around the room, too terrified to scream, everyone moving toward him slowly, their skins melting to the floor. Hawkeye tried to run, but his boots were submerged in the melted filth surrounding the place. He kicked and kicked, but he couldn’t get away. He fell to the ground, thrashing amongst the mess of stomachs, intestines, livers, kidneys, still-beating hearts-

“Hawkeye! _Hawkeye_!”

Hawkeye gasped, opening his eyes. It was pitch black; he couldn’t see anything. He had to get away.

“Wake _up_!” a voice said.

“Huh? Huh? What?” Hawkeye mumbled.

He sat up, and saw Trapper and Frank’s concerned faces in front of him. So, people weren’t dying- at least, not that way… Wait, _Frank_ was there to wake him? Oy, it really must’ve been bad.

“You were screaming, and shouting, and stuff- I didn’t know what to do, I-“ said Trapper.

“No, no, it’s okay…” said Hawkeye, turning to Frank.

“Well, well… some people just have no concern for others. Yelling and thrashing in the middle of the night.” Frank huffed, turning to bite his nails.

Trapper sat at the side of Hawk’s bed.

“We were real worried.”

“Hah. Worried,” Frank mumbled, walking back to his cot.

Hawkeye chuckled softly.

“You alright?” Trapper asked, getting as good a look at Hawkeye as he could manage in this light.

Hawkeye sighed, looking back up at Trapper’s face. The only part he could really see were the curls on top of his head, framed by the light of someone’s lantern outside.

“Yeah, I’m ok.” He said.

“You gonna be ok for the night? ‘Cause, I can stay here and look after you, if you want.”

“Nah, Trap, I’ll be ok for now.” Hawkeye gave his arm a squeeze. “You just worry about you.”

Trapper looked at him for a long time. “All right.” He got up from Hawkeye’s bed. “I’ll be here tomorrow morning.”

But, Trapper had been gone for a while now. Gone without a note, without any semblance of a goodbye. That was Hawk’s first war nightmare, and it wasn’t his last. Even Frank had been discharged now, that bastard. Hawkeye finished lacing his boots, and walked out of post-op, eyes pointed toward the Swamp. He heard footsteps walking behind him, and then beside him. Great, just what he needed. He looked to his side.

“Hi, Hawkeye.” Sidney offered him a warm smile.

Hawkeye stared at him, stunned.

“I guess B.J. really did call you.”

“I can’t say.” Sidney shrugged.

“Well, you can tell him I’ve been doing my job just fine.”

“Hawkeye, that’s not what I’m here to talk about.” Said Sidney.

“Well, then, what _are_ you here to talk about? What did he tell you, that I'd been in post-op too much?” said Hawkeye

“Along those lines, yes.”

“That’s a part of being a doctor! My God, doesn’t anybody else understand? You have to put your patients first!” Hawkeye said indignantly.

“I know, Hawkeye. I’m a doctor, too.”

“It’s not the same. You don’t have to cut open these kids’ bodies.”

They came to a bench and sat down.

“Hawkeye, in order to be an effective doctor, you have to take care of yourself, too.” Said Sidney.

“I’m alive, aren’t I?”

“B.J. told me he’d barely seen you outside of OR or post-op in this past month.”

Hawkeye kicked the sand under his feet. “I’ve slept every night this week. B.J. can tell you that for sure.”

“Would you say you have less energy than you did before?” asked Sidney.

“Yeah, sure.”

“When did you notice it start to change?”

“I don’t know, a week ago?” said Hawkeye, drawing circles in the sand with his boot.

“Does this happen a lot?” Sidney asked.

When he was met with a puzzled look by Hawkeye, he rephrased his question. “Do you feel like you have… cycles of energy?”

“Yeah. Everyone does, though, right?”

Sidney sighed, thinking. “Well, that’s true. But, during these periods of low energy, have you ever had negative thoughts about yourself?”

Hawkeye looked at Sidney like a deer in headlights. He thought back to his lighter, his pocketknife, those late nights outside the supply shed when nobody was watching.

“Ah, ah, no,” said Hawkeye, shaking his head, “I’m not gonna have a Section 8 on my record for the rest of my life. You can’t fool me, Sidney.”

“Hawkeye, this is all off the record. I wouldn’t do that to you, you know that.”

“Sidney, I-“ Hawkeye bit his lip. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I can tell you.”

Sidney put his hand on Hawkeye’s shoulder and looked deep into his eyes. “There’s relief from this, I promise you.”

Hawkeye sighed in resignation. “Let’s take a walk.”

They got up from the bench, venturing past the 4077th welcome sign. Once they were a reasonable distance from civilization, Hawkeye motioned to Sidney to sit down on the sandy earth.

“You want the truth, Sidney?”

Sidney nodded.

“I think I might be losing it.” Hawkeye let out a sad chuckle.

“You’re not losing it Hawkeye, I promise. Why would you say that?”

“Uh, well, alright. Sometimes I have more energy than I know what to do with. That’s when I always go out with my friends and do things I regret.”

Sidney nodded.

“Then, I lose it all. That’s what’s happening right now. It dips down so low, Sidney. I don’t know what to do.”

“That must be hard to deal with.” Said Sidney.

“Yeah, but I’ve been able to, until now.”

“What’s different now?”

Hawkeye looked up at the darkening sky, thinking about everything that’s been happening in the past few months. Sidney waited patiently, being careful not to rush him.

“I lied about the cuts on my hand, Sidney. They were no accident, but I think you knew that.”

Sidney gave a solemn nod.

“But, I don’t know what else to do! It’s either that or drive a rusty scalpel through my chest and hope I bleed out before the tetanus gets me.” Hawkeye let out a chuckle that gave way to a sob.

Sidney put his arm around him, smoothing his thick salt & pepper hair.

"I can't let you do that." said Sidney.

They sat like that for a while. Hawkeye was barely aware of his own existence; only of the sadness pouring out. His sobs subsided, replaced with steady streams of tears.

"I could handle it all. Getting drafted. Trapper leaving. Henry dying. Every single man who didn't make it out of this dump. I just don't _need_ this shit!" he yelled, frustrated.

"Look, Hawkeye, the fact of the matter is, you're in a situation no man should have to face. You might have gone your whole life without noticing your moods shift if you'd stayed out of stressful situations like this, but the draft board invariably had other plans."

"God." Hawkeye shook his head.

"I've had patients all the time who'd been perfectly normal at home, but by the time they'd been here a few months they were either shell-shocked, suicidal, or hallucinating."

"I'm not gonna get like that, am I?"

Sidney shook his head no. "No, Hawkeye. I don't believe so."

Hawkeye wiped his nose on his sleeve. "So, I just have to be like this the whole war?"

"You don't. In fact, there's a medication I know which might help even things out."

Hawkeye looked at Sidney with suspicion. "Medication?"

"Lithium carbonate. It's perfectly safe, as long as you don't overdo it with the drinking."

"What'll happen if I still drink?" asked Hawkeye.

"It's just a word of caution. The combination can really dehydrate you." said Sidney.

"And, what kinds of crazy side effects does it have?"

"Drowsiness is the biggest one."

Hawkeye frowned. "Will I be able to stay awake in the OR?"

"Oh, yes." Sidney reassured. "People get used to it after a while."

Hawkeye sighed. "I don't know, Sidney."

"You want to be level-headed working with your patients, don't you?"

Hawkeye got up from the ground and brushed himself off.

"Give me some time to think about it, alright?" said Hawkeye.

"Sure. Give me a call when you've made a decision."

He gave Sidney a pat on the back. "Hey, thanks for everything, Sidney."

Sidney smiled reassuringly back, and nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you liked this one! Also lmk if anything didn't make sense or was historically inaccurate, I'll be editing the chapter and possibly adding in dialogue anyway. I slept with two Navy blankets yesterday night, and I honestly want to replace my normal blanket with them now.
> 
> (Just finished my editing- don't drink and write, kids.)


	4. Chapter 4

Hawkeye was sitting on the various tall grasses and gravel which made up that scenic overlook nobody ever dared go to to get intimate. It was too easy to see a person- or, in those cases, people- up on this hill from the 4077th, since you could see everything here. It looked a lot more rag-tag from where he was sitting, like some inexperienced campers had just hammered down their tent pegs wherever there was room. To be fair, the pegs that hold the canvas are a bitch to get down. He wondered if the helicopter pilots ever stopped to think about it, if they knew which unit looked the most satisfying from above, with buildings in rows and clearly marked roads. You know they don’t spend all of their time thinking about the patients they’re transporting, ‘cause they go waving around their bare egos in broad daylight. Besides, it must get bored up there in the air. You can’t go reading Nudist Weekly, unless you want your cause of death being listed as “looked at blurry pair of nipples” after you crash.

Hawkeye couldn’t really recognize anyone from atop the hill, except Klinger, the only one not wearing olive. He was pulling guard duty wearing something pink- oh, it had to be that quilted housecoat of his. Every woman over 40 in Crabapple Cove answered the door in a getup like that. As gaudy as it was, it looked comfortable, and if there was one thing Army uniforms lacked, it was that. He wouldn’t mind terribly trying to pull Klinger’s stunt. At least his legs would be able to breathe. He chuckled, and lit a new cigarette, temporarily decapitating Miss Hayworth. He wished he could take his radio up here, just to hear some semblance of American society without Charles complaining that the music was too “common”, whatever that meant. Missing the same country that forced you into a near suicide mission. Life was funny like that.

“Hawkeye!”

It seemed to come from a distance. He peeked to the bottom of the hill and saw B.J. climbing up the hill, a blanket slung over his shoulder.

“Hey, Beej, I can move if you wanna host a picnic here.” Hawkeye shouted down.

B.J. laughed, but most of it got carried away by the wind. He was getting closer; the hill wasn’t very big, really. When he got close enough to see Hawkeye’s cigarette, he frowned.

“I thought you didn’t smoke.”

Hawkeye took a puff. “I don’t.”

“Ah, forgive me, I must be imagining it.” Said B.J., laying his blanket atop the pine needle-ridden grass.

“Just for today.”

B.J. sat down, breathing in the cool air. “Wanna place a bet when the sun’ll disappear?”

“You’re on!” Hawkeye returned immediately, pointing at him, giggling up at the sky.

B.J. looked at his watch. “I reckon it’ll set in 25 minutes.”

“26.” Hawkeye said, taunting B.J. with a smug smile.

“Now, wait a minute, you can’t do that! That’s dirty play!” B.J. protested.

“The hill has different rules.”

“Alright, alright.” B.J. shifted, making himself comfortable. “Just don’t try to go for double-or-nothing when I win.”

“What are we betting, anyways?” asked Hawkeye.

B.J. shrugged. “A pair of socks?”

“No fair; we share socks half the time anyway.”

“Okay. How about a couple of the cookies Peg sent me last week?” said B.J.

“They may be moldy, but we have a deal, my friend.” Hawkeye grinned and shook his hand. “So, you bring anything for the picnic?”

“Didn’t think I needed to.” B.J. shrugged.

“Oh, come on, you taunt me with Peg’s desserts and you didn’t even bring any? You’re lucky I brought my scotch, or else I’d probably have to punch you, you know.”

“Wait, you have _scotch_?”

“Yeah! You know, the stuff I swiped from Charles, topped off with whatever was left in the still an hour ago.” Said Hawkeye.

“Wow, you wanna patent that?”

“Nah, I’ll make millions once I invent my liquor-nicotine combo.” Answered Hawkeye.

B.J. shook his head, and gave a dry chuckle. “You know, Hawk, a little birdie told me that you have a package waiting.”

“Oh?”

“From Sid Freedman.”

Hawkeye smiled. “Tell that little birdie that once I get off this hill I’m gonna find his glasses and run them over with a Jeep.”

“Come on, Hawkeye, you don’t mean that.”

“Oh, but I do.” Hawkeye put down his flask, and started to stand up.

B.J. took a hold of Hawkeye’s arm, bringing him down to sitting again.

“Let go of me, you ape!”

“Not until you calm down! Listen, nobody has the faintest idea about your… problem except for me. I told Radar it was a stationery set!” said B.J.

Hawkeye was still attempting to pull B.J.’s hand off his arm. “Why in the hell would Freedman send me a stationery set?!”

B.J. finally unhanded him. “Look, nobody stops to think twice, okay? They know you and Sid are good friends, so it would make sense! Hell, _I_ don’t even know what’s in there!”

Hawkeye put out his cigarette on the ground and threw it over the hill. When he sat down, he put his face in his knees.

“I’m just worried, Hawkeye. I’m worried. You can call it whatever you want, but I notice when you’re hurting, too, you know.”

“Aw, jeez…” Hawkeye’s reply came muffled.

B.J. put his hand on his shoulder, and Hawkeye straightened up to look at him. His face was so, so tired.

“Just tell me what’s wrong.” Said B.J., strained, desperate.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Beej.” Hawkeye said, low and resigned.

B.J. sighed. However much it pained him, he was used to this.

“I’ve just gotta make a decision.” Said Hawkeye.

“Oh?” B.J. asked, careful not to push too much.

“Yeah. I gave myself til midnight.”

B.J. didn’t have to ask if it was to do with Sidney’s parcel.

“What are you planning to do in the meantime?” asked B.J.

Hawkeye gestured around the hill. “This.”

They heard a Jeep engine backfire down at camp, and laughed when the driver started swearing.

“Is our bet still on?” asked B.J.

Hawkeye grinned. “You bet it is. Look how far down the sun is already! I’ve got this one in the bag!”

“Careful, don’t get too cocky. It’s already been ten minutes.”

Hawkeye scoffed, getting another cigarette out of the pack.

“Hey, Hawk,“ said B.J., “you wanna share my blanket?”

“I’m not cold.” Hawkeye said, tucking his hands deep into his pockets.

B.J. took him by the arm- more gently this time- and they lay next to each other, watching the sun make its slow descent down. Hawkeye fidgeted his lighter, flicking it on, off, on, off, until B.J. took his hand and pocketed the lighter. Hawkeye was quiet- a rare occurrence. B.J. wondered what was going on in that head of his. He hoped to God he’d accept whatever kind of help Sidney was offering him, because he'd be damned if he let Hawkeye slip through the cracks and end up where the section eights go.

“What time you have?” Hawkeye asked, his head relaxed on B.J.’s chest.

“Don’t you have a watch, too?”

“Might not be set the same.” Said Hawkeye.

“Mine says 6 p.m., almost on the dot. 27 minutes; I guess you win.” B.J. smiled.

“I can’t contain my excitement.” Said Hawkeye, still not moving.

“Oh, wait, you can see the last sliver of the sun! Come on, get up!”

Hawkeye begrudgingly obliged, using B.J. for support as he stood. Usually, in the 4077th, the sunset would be blocked by trees and buildings, but they could see it setting over an old minefield- no trees. Pity all the landscaping had to be blown up in order for them to enjoy this. They looked at the sliver of sun through squinted eyes, and cheered when it finally sunk down.

“Beej,” said Hawkeye.

“What?”

“I know what I’m gonna do now.”

“Oh, really? That’s great!” said B.J.

“Thanks for keeping me company.”

Hawkeye picked up his bag, and gave B.J. a quick kiss on the cheek. B.J. put his hand on the spot, stunned. By the time he came to his senses, Hawkeye was already more than halfway down the hill, heading to the mailroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It got a little gay, oops lol. Hope you liked it, and thanks yall for your comments and kudos!! It seriously means so much.


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